


When a Good Man Goes to War

by AndyAO3



Category: Diablo (Video Game), Diablo III
Genre: Gen, I suppose this makes Honor in Revenge officially part of my fic-canon now, Is it hurt/comfort if there's no comfort, M/M, Mentions of Smut, SPOILERSSS, but there's descriptions of injuries, sadfic, there isn't any actual smut in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyAO3/pseuds/AndyAO3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demons run, but count the cost...</p><p>Sequel to Honor in Revenge. ONESHOT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When a Good Man Goes to War

**Author's Note:**

> OH FINE, HAVE YOUR SEQUEL.
> 
> I wanted to write it anyway, but I warn you: it's hella sad.

For an instant, just the briefest moment, the world had been set _right_ again.

In Kormac's mind, it had all become a blur. They had been celebrating. Cheering. The templar had barely been able to contain his joy, his relief. The world was saved. Diablo was dead. He felt a great weight being lifted off of his shoulders then, and he praised the Light that things had turned out as they had - that Leah's spirit was free of Diablo's evil and able to rest in peace, and that all those who had died had not done so in vain.

He saw Ander stagger, but he had been too damned caught up in the moment to put all the facts together and come to a conclusion about it. Then he realized, a split second too late, that the hunter was unbalanced.

The next few seconds stretched into an eternity.

Ander's legs wobbled, then they gave way completely from underneath him. Kormac saw him fall, watched the last vestiges of energy drain away from him, looked on in shock and mounting horror as he landed in a boneless, lifeless heap of cloth and leather and mail, twin hand crossbows hitting the ground with echoing clatters. Then everything was still.

Kormac had never felt his chest constrict so painfully as it did in that instant. Dimly, he was aware of shoving Lyndon aside, of pulling off his own helmet as he closed the distance to the fallen hunter in a few long, quick strides. He heard Eirena's voice raised in confusion and worry and fear, but even she went ignored as he kneeled and carefully slipped his arms around Ander's torso to lift ( _too thin, much too thin, light as a feather, hasn't he even been eating_ ) the hunter off the ground and press an ear to his chest.

The templar let out a shaky, inaudible sigh of relief when he heard a weak, unsteady rhythm and shallow breaths within. Time slowly went back to normal, and he lifted his head with some slight reluctance.

"His heart still beats in his chest, but it is _very_ faint," he said, turning enough to eye Li coldly. Even if suspicion was unwarranted, the wizard didn't seem to be badly injured at all, and was still on his feet. "Did he take any blows to the head during the battle?"

Brow furrowed, the young mage shook his head. "If he did, I didn't see it happen." Li paused, and added, "--can you carry him, Kormac?" There was enough genuine concern, worry and guilt in that voice to ease Kormac's mistrust somewhat.

"Easily," he replied. With a glance to the side, he reached over to gather up Ander's crossbows and set them in the man's lap. There was a faint squeak, and then a tiny, fuzzy head poked out of one of the pockets; recognizing the little bat from experience, Kormac mutely picked it up and tucked it away in the safety of his own tabard. He wondered idly where the ferrets were. Hopefully, back at the keep.

Li nodded, having probably known that was the case anyway. "Then we'll take him back to the keep. Eirena, a portal, if you would; we can't risk taking him all the way back to the waypoint like this."

Eirena was already pulling out a scroll when she spoke. "Consider it done," she said. Meanwhile, Kormac carefully hooked one arm under Ander's upper body and the other under the man's long legs, and rose to stand with the hunter held gently in his arms. Alongside everything else, it worried him deeply how thin Ander had become, how impossibly light the man was when he held that limp, cloaked form... but that was one of a thousand worries at that point.

When the portal was opened, Kormac was the first to step through. No one got in his way.

\---

The last time he had seen Ander stripped of his clothing, the man had shivered under his touch and breathed his name like the syllables of it were a plea to the very gods that the hunter claimed to not believe in. At the time, Kormac had thought of it as a sinful, fleeting dalliance. He'd never considered that the thought of it would plague him afterward, but it had, and it had been an unwelcome distraction in the Heavens. Thinking of something so damning in such a holy place, he'd felt at times that he was no better than the demons themselves.

But as he painstakingly peeled away the layers of cloth and mail and leather from the hunter's battered body, he found himself thinking guiltily that he would much prefer a reaction, _any_ reaction, to the uncanny stillness with which Ander slept then. Even as the bruising was revealed, so dark in places that it looked as if the man had been picked up and squeezed to the point of almost being crushed, Kormac would rather the lanky hunter gasp or cry out in pain than nothing at all.

There were broken and cracked ribs, a fractured collarbone, and a hairline-cracked bone in his spine. There was internal bleeding, and one of his arms had been neatly snapped, laying at a sickening angle. He had a bump on his head from when he'd hit the ground as he fell, also, but upon closer examination, Kormac couldn't find anything that would indicate a concussion or a crack in his skull. Small blessings would have to do, the templar supposed. Ander needed every scrap of luck he could get.

Because Kormac had a feeling that the hunter wasn't fighting to survive anymore.

He didn't know why his instincts were telling him that. It wasn't a rational thing to think of. Besides that, if Ander was unconscious, then there wasn't anything going on in his mind anyway, was there? The whole _fighting to survive_ thing was sort of a daft notion to begin with, wasn't it? Kormac really was just being foolish.

...Right?

That he couldn't answer himself only reinforced the stray thought in his mind, giving it the power to linger and torment him as he did his level best to heal the man's injuries. Forcing his hands to remain steady, he gently reset the hunter's bones as well as he could without cutting him open, willing the Light into the man's still form and repairing the battered flesh as much as he was able.

Even when he worked to the point of exhaustion, Kormac knew that there was still more healing to do. He was damp with sweat by the time he was forced to stop due to his own diminishing reserves of energy, to the point that the hunter's little bat had vacated his tunic and nestled itself in the warm bedcovers to avoid the unpleasantness of it. With a reluctant sigh, he leaned back in his seat away from the man and slumped, the small chair creaking under his weight.

The bruises were still there, but they weren't as horrible as they had been. Ander's bones would probably never be quite straight again, but at least they weren't snapped and shattered and splintered. The hunter was stabilized, if only for a moment.

Kormac allowed himself to take some small comfort in that, reaching out to pet the little brown bat's head gently with two fingers idly. It tried to nip his fingers, but its tiny teeth couldn't do more than tickle him; after a moment, it seemed resigned to its fate of being petted and settled into it with a little peep of a sound.

A movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye, but when he turned to look, it was only the ferrets. The door was cracked open, and the two creatures were darting in and out of the room through it. Relieved as he was to see that they hadn't been left behind in the Heavens (Ander would have been upset over losing a pet; losing his raven had been what prompted him to take the bat in to begin with), Kormac couldn't help but notice that every time they came back in, they'd bring something with them.

Then he saw that they'd made a little pile of things in the corner of the room. _Ah_. They were trying to make Ander feel a bit better by bringing him things, weren't they? Well, Kormac couldn't fault the little creatures for trying. Though he supposed as well that he should probably make sure they hadn't stolen anything important from anyone.

Cricking his neck and stretching, Kormac stood from his chair and walked over to the corner that the ferrets had claimed for their stash, kneeling down to sift through it. One of the animals paused to dart over and nuzzle his hand, and he smiled weakly at it. "Hey, there..." he mumbled, scratching it behind its ear. It did a happy little roll onto its back and he gave it the indicated belly-rub distractedly as he sifted through the pile of things with his other hand.

One of Eirena's hair pins. A dead mouse. Lyndon's straight razor. A child's shoe. Several of Shen's gemstones. The stopper from a bottle of ale. A button. A tarnished silver buckle with a bit of chewed-on leather strap still attatched to it. A small leather-bound journal. A ball of twine. A tiny, uncorked bottle that had once contained something fragrant...

Hold on, a _journal_? That had to belong to someone. He eased himself down into a more comfortable sitting position as he picked it up, forgetting about the ferret for a moment. It had no name on its cover, but it was well-worn, and there were smudges of ink on the leather. Someone clearly made good use of it.

He wondered for a moment whether or not to open it and glance at its contents. On the one hand, it would be a breach of privacy, but on the other, he wouldn't know whose it was otherwise. Swallowing around a lump that had formed in his throat, Kormac nervously opened it up to the first few pages and scanned the cramped, jagged script.

_New Tristram... An ill name for a town if ever there was one. My childhood home wasn't too far from here, buried in the forests of the kingdom of Westmarch. But now there's nothing left of it except for the ashes. I will not let New Tristram fall to the same fate. The town's gates must hold..._

_...I do not know whether Leah's uncle survived his ordeal, but I'm reluctant to trust to hope. I've found that it has a way of betraying you. Still, if the meteor fell into the cathedral, it is worth looking into. Leah has a stout heart. She reminds me a little of my sister, Halissa..._

...Ander?

Kormac craned his neck to frown at the man on the bed, his brows furrowing deeply. He'd seen the hunter scribbling before, but hadn't thought much of it at the time. And yet he held Ander's most private thoughts in his hand.

The ferret from before had been joined by its partner in crime, the latter having brought a handkerchief with it. Kormac only noticed its presence when it stood on its hindpaws and put its front paws on his leg, looking up at him expectantly with its head tilted. He only gave it the briefest glance and quick pat on the head as aknowledgement; he was busy _reading_.

_Deckard Cain's passing weighs heavily on me. I never wanted this for him, or for Leah. Already I can see traces of my sister's grief in her eyes... But Leah is strong enough to go on without him. She already knows that we must confront Maghda. I'll have to journey through the caves about Wortham to reach her..._

_...Giant spiders are among my favorite prey. They make such excellent targets, and I've eaten worse. Judging by the narrow path through this cave, I will have plenty of targets..._

_...We travel through a harsh and lonely land. It reminds me of the Dreadlands but for the sweltering heat. Sand and dust are everywhere in the scalding wind, but I will not let that keep me from my quarry..._

He read on, even as his eyes grew tired of reading the hunter's messy writing. Page after page of accounts of their journeys, written from Ander's perspective. There was a distinct sadness to it, a melancholy that Kormac hadn't known the man was capable of feeling anymore. The weight of the demon hunter's sorrow and grief hung from every word, and the writing's style and legibility reflected whatever state Ander had been at time of writing.

He had thought once that the man could feel only hatred. The journal in his hands proved that notion wrong a thousand times over.

Then he came to a passage that made something in his chest clench all over again.

_...No... It was all a trap—an elaborate illusion—to aid an unspeakable enemy. Now Leah is imprisoned within that abomination, the Lord of Terror himself. If I had any sense, I would throw myself from these walls and let my blood freeze into the ground. But I did not give in when Halissa died, raving and cursing with her last breath. I cannot lose faith..._

Kormac read it over, hands trembling faintly. He could see where the ink had run, where the writing had been shaky and uncertain, and where one word had run into the next at times. Unlike other entries, that particular one got its own page, and was so sloppily written that it almost needed it. He found himself imagining the condition Ander had been in while writing it, and the thought of the demon hunter ( _strong, determined, unyielding_ ) being so utterly distraught that he would be willing to resort to _suicide_ made Kormac shut the journal quite suddenly with a _thwup_ , no longer wanting to read further.

No wonder Ander seemed like he hadn't been eating or sleeping. He probably hadn't been. He hadn't wanted to survive.

Sucking in a steadying, calming breath, Kormac gently nudged the ferrets out of his lap - they had settled there while he was reading - and stood up once more to make his way back to the bed, resuming his vigil from his chair. He let out a heavy and shaky sigh as he sat back down, leaning forward and taking one of the hunter's hands into his own.

"I'm sorry, friend," he murmured, closing his eyes and saying a silent prayer.


End file.
